


Noodle Girl

by Aelia_D



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Based on one obscure canon reference, Comedy, Gen, Reader Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 08:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16869577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelia_D/pseuds/Aelia_D
Summary: Grunt and co. come into your noodle shop just before closing. You’re having none of their nonsense.(Tumblr Prompt response)





	Noodle Girl

You weren’t hiding from customers, exactly. You just didn’t want them to see you. Or know that the shop was open. The noodle shop actually closed in ten minutes, and if you were lucky you wouldn’t have anyone rush in and place a last minute order. You’d flip the sign to closed and actually lock up, except that somehow your boss always knew when you did that, and avoiding customers and getting out of here on time wasn’t  _quite_  worth the amount of trouble you’d get in if you did that.

The front door chimed, signalling someone’s arrival. You bit back a groan and trudged to the front.

“Hi, welcome to-” your voice caught in your throat when you saw the group of Krogan. There were four of them.  _Four of them._  You’d never get out of here on time. “Okay, look. We close in ten minutes. I’m willing to take your orders if you are willing to take it to-go, and only if you’re willing to pick what you want in the next two minutes.”

One of the Krogan bristled, and opened his mouth to say something, clearly offended by the way you were talking to them. Another one laughed. He was a hair smaller than the others, his plating was blue, his skin tan. His armor was clearly high-end, and well cared for. He placed an arm in front of the offended Krogan, and stepped closer to you, taking one of the menus from your grip.

“What would it take for you to let us eat it here, instead of hauling it back to our ship?” He asked you, his blue eyes sparkled with humor.

“Being here more than ten minutes before closing,” you stood your ground, tilting your head back to look up and meet his eyes. You were quaking in your comfortable shoes, and regretted deciding to fight this battle, but you wanted to get out of here at a reasonable hour.

“Fair enough,” he relented, and handed the menu back without looking at it. “We’ll take 8 orders of the #2 noodle bowl. To go.”

You sighed. He’d picked one of the easier dishes, and thankfully you’d prepped plenty for that recipe earlier. It shouldn’t take you long if you just got to it. You’d only get out of here a few minutes late.

“Where’s your cleaning supplies? We’ll take care of the front-of-house while you make that.”

“What?”

“We’re going to make you work late, so let us help out. Give us the stuff to clean up the tables and floors and whatever else. We’ll take care of it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, dubious that he’d do what he said he’d do. Though after a moment you relented. They weren’t going to make it worse while you cooked, you didn’t think. Best case maybe they’d speed up your evening a hair? You weren’t going to get your hopes up too high. You filled a mop bucket with hot water and cleaning solution, grabbed a broom and the dustpan, and even gave them the fresh rags and bleach-water for the tables.

Once they were set you headed to the kitchen. You worked efficiently, and got their noodle meals ready to go in record time. Eight bowls wiped out your ingredients almost perfectly. You packed it up, and brought it around front.

You froze. Everything was spotless. They’d actually cleaned the restaurant for you. It was almost enough to make you feel bad for telling them the food had to be to-go. Almost. The Krogan who spoke for the group saw the look on your face and laughed.

“Didn’t think we could do it?” He teased. He took the bags from you, and handed them over to his guys, before passing you a credit chit.

“Honestly? No. But thank you.” You said, ringing up his order. You passed the chit back.

“Name’s Urdnot Grunt,” He said as his crew filed out with their food. “And I’d like to take you on a date.”

“What?” You blinked at him.

“I was impressed by the way you stood up to us. Not many humans would do that. I’d like to get to know you better.” He handed you a datacard with his comm code on it. “Get in touch if you’re interested, too.”

With that, he left.

The next day you looked Urdnot Grunt up on the extranet. It pulled up a wealth of information on him. He was famous. He’d fought with  _the_  Commander Shepard, and you’d just faced him down over a bowl of noodles. But he’d asked you on a date  _after_  that.

You agonized for another full day  about whether or not to message him before you finally decided that you would. Because he’d asked you on a date, and you didn’t get that often, so you were going to try to enjoy it.

You>> It’s noodle girl.  
Grunt>> NOODLE GIRL! I was wondering if you were going to message  
Grunt>> or if I needed to come apologize for overstepping.  
You>> No, I just needed to decide if I wanted to go on a date with an annoying customer ;)  
Grunt>> The noodles were delicious.  
Grunt>> Shall I take you there for our date?  
You>> DON’T YOU DARE

You laughed. The rest of the conversation continued along a similar vein, him teasing you, you teasing him. You were glad you’d given in on messaging him. It didn’t take too long to pick out a date and a time, though he wouldn’t tell you where he was taking you, just that it was tasty.

When date-day finally rolled around, you took your time getting ready, picking out a cute outfit, doing your hair and makeup, and generally trying to make sure you looked nice. You looked yourself over in the mirror, feeling pretty good just before your alarm chimed. It was time to go meet him at the park.

Grunt was already there when you arrived, talking to a Turian. You didn’t recognize the Turian, and they dismissed themself from the conversation just before you arrived. Grunt waved them off, then turned to look at you. He seemed almost frozen in place.

“Grunt?” You waved your hand in front of him. “How do I look? Do I look okay?”

“You look…” He seemed at a loss. “Okay. I MEAN-” He slapped one clawed hand to his face. “You look great. Perfect. Wonderful. I’m an idiot.”

You laughed, and stepped closer to him.

“You look nice, too.” You ran your hand over his shiny armor. “Is this freshly polished? For me?”

“Yes.” He took your hand and placed it on his arm in an archaic Earth custom. “Now, if you’ll follow me this way, I’ve made plans for the evening that don’t include me continuing to make an idiot of myself…”

**Author's Note:**

> Written on tumblr in response to a prompt post. The prompt was "You look... okay. I Mean-" and it was "for my tank baby grunt"
> 
> The whole thing is based around one obscure canon reference to Grunt causing trouble at a noodle shop.


End file.
